What the hell had I gotten myself into?

Thinking about my date that night with Kev was incredibly distracting. I sleepwalked through the morning until a couple more coffees jolted me into action.

God, I was gonna need to take off early and nap today. But this conference call was dragging on, and I was so clearly spaced out that it wasn’t even funny. But it was all engineers arguing about the practicalities right now, which meant I didn’t really have to pay attention.

I tuned back in just in time to hear, “We need to add a load-bearing wall.”

That made it my job to figure out how it could be done without ruining the open concept of the ground floor of this hotel. I sighed and scribbled a note to myself, already planning how I’d do it. “Fine.”

“What? No arguments? No sassy In my vision, I’m working with engineers who find a way to do it?” Fred was only sitting one row of desks away from me, so he looked up over his computer and gave me a shit-eating grin. Luckily for him, I liked him.

I wadded up a Post-It note and chucked it toward him. Still had that Little League baseball arm, because it hit him square in the nose. “Very funny,” I said as the rest of the conference call participants chuckled. “No, I’ll go back to the drawing board on that, if you’re not gonna argue the vaulted ceiling.”

“It’s a cool idea,” Fred surprised me by admitting. “But you know I can’t do it as-is. We’ll keep the concept and make it work.”

Weird. For once, an engineer and an architect agreeing on practical matters. That didn’t happen often.

“I’ll leave you two to come up with a way to make that work.” That was the client’s project manager. He had an exacting vision, but in some ways, it was better to work with people who did. It gave me a strong framework. Without my background, he didn’t know the impossible things he was asking, which pushed me to find a way to do them. No coasting for my paycheck, which would be a miserable damn life.

Every damn time I pulled it off, it was a heady high, and I remembered why I loved the hell out of my job.

“When’s your meeting?” I asked. He had to present the vision to the rest of the board to approve.

“Tomorrow at three.”

I glanced at Fred, who nodded at me. “We can get you the final proposal by tonight.”

Once we’d hung up, Fred looked over at me and pulled a face. I knew that meant by tonight? and I beckoned him over.

“What’s got into you?” was the first question Fred greeted me with.

I knew my coworkers were listening now. There was no privacy in an office. I sure as hell wasn’t gonna tell him I’d barely slept last night, and then I’d met a male escort…

“A surprising spirit of tolerance. Peace on Earth, joy to men, and all that.”

“Dude, it’s April.”

“Don’t be a Grinch,” I told him and wagged a finger. “That’s not very Christmassy of you.” I was too tired to waste time on joking around, so I kept on going. “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking.”

He pushed back against my first suggestion, but we came to a compromise on a wall that would maintain the airy feeling, but bear enough load to make the ceiling not collapse in a minor earthquake. This building was a small boutique hotel in LA, and that was one of the unique geographical requirements of the area.

“Okay, I’ll model that,” I told him. “And I’ll send you the final files at the end of the afternoon.” 3D modeling a complex building took a long time, and we’d already passed the artistic stage where an artist could add a few brushstrokes to put in another wall.

“Better to exceed deadlines than fly past them.”

It looked like this project was sailing by smoothly, so I asked, “Anything else on our plate?”

“Not for today.”

“Thank God. I might take off early and nap.”

Fred shook his head. “No kidding. Early for you is, what, five? You worked a full day after a twenty-hour flight? Go sleep, for crying out loud.”

I shook my head and rubbed my face. “Yeah, but this paper tray won’t do itself.” Most of my incoming work was digital rather than paper, but the point still stood.

“And nobody expects you to do things at the speed you do them,” Fred countered. “You just set yourself up as a machine that way, until everyone starts to expect it from now on.”

We’d had this disagreement before. Fred was a big fan of slow and steady work, and while I liked a bit of caution and wanted to be sure I got my work right the first time, if I was capable of working fast, why not? Valerie, our boss, was flexible on how we worked so long as we got the damn work done.

He smiled as I eyed him, then held up his hands. “Fine, fine. But I’m just saying, when’s the last time you left the office before eight PM?”

“Today,” I countered with a grin.

“To nap.”

“Maybe I have a hot date afterward,” I challenged him, folding my arms.

He burst out laughing and I had to work hard not to be offended. “Sorry,” he added after a moment and raised his brow. “I’d just figured you had some secret hubby you were never gonna talk about.”

It took me a minute to figure out what he meant. “Huh?”

“You never talk about a family, but you never talk about dating, either. But you said you were gay. A couple of us figured you were asexual or, I dunno, you’ve got a sugar baby… I said it’s none of our business, but I figured you didn’t want to talk about it and risk, you know…”

“Bad reactions?” Despite myself, I started smiling. “Man, if I had a sugar baby, I wouldn’t be hiding him.”

There was a certain prickle in my chest. He still never asked if I was serious about having a date. Wow. My love life is dire, then.

I casually waved him away to get back to my work, but the rest of my day was just as subdued with that thought hanging over my head.

By the time I skipped out of work, I was determined to make the most of this date. Sure, I was paying for the privilege, but that meant I could really practice how to get to know someone all over again. He could give me feedback. I’d optimize my first-date self.

Whatever engineers said, architects did the same basic thing, but with more style. And I was going to succeed at this—in style.

I mentally chose my outfit before I even got home. I hung it up before I set my alarm for one sleep cycle—an hour and forty-five minutes, by my body clock. A light lunch, workout, and shower later, I fell into bed for my nap. This time, I had no trouble at all closing my eyes and drifting off. Kev’s beautiful eyes were the last thing I thought about before blissful sleep claimed me.

I barely knew what city I was in when I opened my eyes, but I knew I had something very important and expensive to do.

Right.

It took me a few seconds to put myself together. Knots of anxiety I hadn’t experienced since my first date with Hugh were tying me up. God, that was so long ago, and I was such a different person now.

How the hell did I talk about myself? Did I mention my dead boyfriend before or after drinks? Did I not mention him at all? Was I supposed to focus conversation on Kev and not myself? I hadn’t even dated in the modern era, it felt like. Maybe it was all automatically filtered out on Grindr and Tinder and whatnot these days.

What if he didn’t like me?

“Get it together,” I told myself with a scowl. That was the point of paying, wasn’t it? So someone would put up with you, even if you were an anxious, inexperienced mess?

I sighed and slipped on my shirt, turning to check myself out in the mirror. These dark jeans highlighted my ass, and the shirt brought out my eyes. I knew what made me look good, at least. I wouldn’t be the ugliest guy he’d dated. And I could bring him to a nice place for a meal. That was enough to make it an okay evening for us both, I hoped.

I took trains and Ubers way more than my car within Brooklyn and Manhattan, only driving anywhere outside of the metropolitan area. I didn’t want to worry about parking, and traffic was always a nightmare. As usual, I grabbed an Uber to the diner. It was strange seeing the front of the club, closed up tightly in the early evening, not open yet. When did it open? I’d never tried to go before nighttime.

Kev stood there, his hands casually folded behind his back, looking for all the world like he was supposed to be there. And, oh man, did he ever look good.

A cardigan and a collared shirt made him look like… well, like he belonged on my arm in the student cafeteria.

Where did that come from? I hesitated as I stood up and climbed out of the Uber with a short thanks to the driver, but it was too late. He’d spotted me.

I had to do this. For me. I wasn’t used to thinking of me.

Still off-balance from my own thoughts, it took me a moment to awkwardly wave. By that time, he’d approached and he caught my hand to pull me in for a hug. “Hi.”

God, he smelled good. He felt good. When was the last time I’d been hugged like this? Not by a relative, or a buddy slapping my back, but like a lover.

I’d stopped by the ATM that morning, so I had an envelope ready in my pocket. Four hours ought to be enough for dinner and drinks afterward, I figured. And hell, at a hundred an hour, I’d spent more on bachelor parties for my goddamn coworkers. Buying a few rounds at New York City prices added up fast.

He took it with a smile and pocketed it, then laced his fingers with mine. “Hi, Charlie. You could have waited until we were off the street.” His grin was broad and teasing, though, rather than annoyed.

“O-Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Sorry! I wasn’t sure.”

He kissed my cheek and slid his arm around my waist. He seemed brashly confident all of a sudden, not even looking around to see who was nearby. It was the gayborhood, and I’d never had a problem in New York, but it was still an amusing little signal of a small-town boy who thought the city was a haven for guys like us. “No problem. Uber or a cab?”

“Uber.” I could do something with my hands, then, since I wasn’t sure if I should touch him or back away or hold hands or what.

“And when we’re waiting for the Uber, we can talk about what you want,” he told me with an amused smile, taking half a step away. Maybe he sensed my nervousness.

I cast him an appreciative smile. Another car was already on its way to us. “Yeah. Sorry.” I pocketed the phone. “I just haven’t done this in ages.”

“Dry spell?” he asked. “We can take it slow.” Instead of wrapping his arm around my waist, he edged away a little more, and then took my hand. “If anything I do feels like too much, just let me know.”

Actually, that was nice. I tightened my grip on his hand. I liked a man who wasn’t afraid to be confident and affectionate in public. And it was nice not to have to second-guess how far he wanted to go on a first date, whether I was insulting him or being too pushy, and so on.

He might have been younger, but he radiated confidence. Maybe a little naïveté, but that was adorable in its own way.

“So, how old are you?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Wise question. I used to say nineteen...” he started, then cut himself off and looked up at me.

I raised my eyebrow. “You can give me the Grindr answer or the real answer. I’m thirty-two, so I’m definitely older. I don’t care. And I don’t want a guy as young as possible, that’s gross.”

“In that case, I like you,” he chuckled. “If anyone else asks, I’m twenty-one.”

“And if your ID falls out of your pocket?”

He laughed again, louder. “Twenty-three.”

“That’s not a big difference.”

Kev winked at me. “You’d be surprised.” He didn’t seem to mind questions, so I plunged ahead.

“Do guys really focus that much on age?”

Kev shook his head. “Not as much as they do for women in my industry, I don’t think. But it fits my image better. Just barely legal to drink, barely out of Tennessee… they didn’t care if I wasn’t legal to drink there.”

“So I was right about Tennessee.” I felt a moment of triumph. “I did a job down in Nashville a couple years ago. Whole different pace of life.”

“It sure is,” he said with a rueful smile.

Our car arrived, so I ushered him in and slid in after him for the quick drive. He peppered me with casual questions about my day and how long I’d been in the city, but he was obviously steering clear of asking what I did for work yet.

Made sense. Some guys wouldn’t want this transaction known in their industry. Hell, I could be in just as much trouble as him, but I didn’t think I was in much danger by telling him. “I work as an architect,” I told him as we walked into the restaurant.

“Aha! I thought I detected that vibe.” He grinned. “Smart, well-dressed, an eye for lines…”

I winked. “And curves.”

The musical laugh he gave after all of my jokes? God, it was magic to my ears. He had to know how pretty he was, but I had to tell him anyway. “You’re gorgeous. It’s a little intimidating,” I admitted under my breath as we waited to talk to the maitre-d’.

His smile was sweet. “Thank you,” he said graciously, but he didn’t act cocky about it. He knew how to act under pressure, and I felt bad for being surprised by it. He was clearly quick to pick up new situations. Somehow, the amount he was charging, I’d expected less.

God, that was a dick move of me. I was glad I’d never said a word to that effect beyond our initial conversation yesterday.

“This way, gentlemen.” The table by the window had a view of some fairy lights and a pretty typical street scene, but it also had a small bowl of water with a floating rose candle. Definitely a date night spot.

For a moment, Kev looked shy as he picked up the menu and settled himself in his chair. When he looked over his menu at me, he took a moment to compose himself.

What was going on in his head? I would have paid a lot more to know that.

“Do you recommend anything in particular here?” was all he asked.

I shook my head. “No. Everything I’ve had here is good.”

That seemed to relax him, and he raised his menu again. He looked more confident already. “Great.” It felt like I’d just passed a test, but I wasn’t sure what.

“The chicken’s particularly great, though,” I offered. “That’s what I’m having.”

Kev laughed. “I’d better hurry up and choose something, then! Hm. That looks good…” He put down his menu. “Okay, let’s test your taste. I’ll get the same.”

I found myself suddenly worried that he wouldn’t like it—as if that would reflect on me. “Time to sweat,” I muttered.

He laughed. “I’ll try to distract you with my stunning conversational skills.”

“That was a missed opportunity to discuss your oral skills.” I said, straight-faced.

Kev choked on air and laughed as the waiter approached to ask about the wine list.

“Do you drink?” I asked. I wasn’t going to push it tonight—just a bottle between us. But if he wanted to stay sober, I was fine with that. I caught his hesitation and interrupted myself. “Actually, let’s stick with something lighter. Sparkling water?”

“Please,” Kev agreed.

“And we’re ready to order, I believe,” I added. I ordered first so he’d know what to get, in case he’d forgotten and he still planned to copy me.

Sure enough, he added, “And the same for me, please.” When the waiter left, he looked back at me. “Thanks for skipping the wine. I don’t love drinking on a first date, but most people seem to need to.”

I nodded. I’d noticed that in other social situations myself. “It settles the nerves, I guess. But if you need a drug to be more like yourself…” I shook my head. “Well, I won’t lecture anyone, but it doesn’t seem healthy.”

“I agree. It’s always a little red flag, but then, I don’t have much problem being me whether or not people like it.” He grinned. “So are you a fitness, outdoorsy kind of guy?” he guessed.

I grinned. “If I lived anywhere else, I might be. But you couldn’t pay me enough to wrap myself in spandex and play target practice with cabs here at five in the morning.”

“Hm. Yeah, I see your point.”

After a few more minutes of idle conversation, he excused himself to head for the bathroom, and I had a minute to compose myself.

This was already the best first date I’d been on in ages, and it had only just started. Mind you, it was the only first date I’d had in, like, a decade. Okay, maybe not quite that long, but even so…

As long as I didn’t screw anything up, I’d be happy. Maybe I’d have the confidence for more. Except there was one little problem: I wanted my next date to be with Kev again.

This was not how the plan was supposed to go.